


Homecoming

by smgmcrznana, Verdin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Daemon hunters, Gen, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-15 03:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13022499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smgmcrznana/pseuds/smgmcrznana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdin/pseuds/Verdin
Summary: After the end of the world, Cor and Iris go out and hunt, for it is that what remains needs. That much is known.Leonis has never been a man of many words, and Iris is a -complicated- young woman, and some of their less honorable adventures will be chronicled here.The journey they are on takes them to strange places, and some old aquaintances follow on their path.





	1. Cabin Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor is a patient man, but when Iris crosses a line he didn't know he had, things beneath the surface pull them both under.

Cor stared at his hand. Stared at Iris. His palm burnt from the slap on her cheek.

This was not something he had ever done. Not hitting a girl, that happened in a fight and in training, but _slapping_ someone.

“I'm sorry...“ His voice hoarse.

Iris had not expected it, not from a coward like _him_. Tears welled up in her eyes but she was determined to keep them at bay. Her anger turned to shock momentarily, disarmed by the sting that spread across her face before building up again. _How dare you._ An uncontrollable shaking overtook her body, the apology angered her more than the slap somehow. Iris struck out, landing a single hard punch in Cor's chest before she backed away again. She sat down, soothed her cheek, clenched her fist.

"This is useless, just like _you_."

 

It all had started as a joke, as those things so often did. Iris talked about the uniforms of the Crownsguard and how awesome one would look on her, and they started discussing freedoms and regulations those uniforms brought and why Cor did not wear one, and that her Dad would never had needed such little ego-trips, and Cor reminded her of Clarus' hairdo when he was younger, and they had laughed, and then things somehow _escalated_. It might have been the storm that whistled around the little cave they made camp in, or the last hunt that turned out more dangerous than they had thought, but suddenly Iris said some words that came out of the nowhere for him, words that had been at the tip of her tongue so often and now finally had spilled.

Whenever Iris and Gladiolus' play fights had gotten out of hand, her dad made them both apologize, no matter whose fault, and Iris realized that she always felt better solving a conflict in unison rather than playing a blame game. But she did not feel that way about this situation or the man whose back she was burning with her stare. There was no forgiveness within her for him, not now when she finally had slipped, and he had reacted that way. Not even if he was one of the few people left that could link her to parts of her father she still didn't know. Malice was dangerously contaminating her thoughts.

 

“I am not Regis' _fucktoy_.“ His words were silent, barely audible over wind and rain. She had never seen him this angry, or angry at all.

 

"Well, you sure as hell weren't his _sword_!" Iris' shrill voice echoed in the cave. If Cor wanted to justify him slapping her by dwelling on her choice of words, he had _better_ come up with a solid explanation for why he was absent at the treaty signing if he didn't want to hear her thoughts about it. _She would fight him._ Iris almost wanted to laugh at Cor's response. _Your only concern is your reputation?_ But she was too fired up by it.

He squatted down, very suddenly looking like a man his age. “Iris...“ He rubbed his hands. “There is hardly a day when I don't wish I had died in his stead. Still not, after all these years. Regis is... was...“ No more words, but a shake of his head.

"I should be over it. I know I should be. I'm not. And I'm not over losing Clarus, or the thought that I could have done something if they just had allowed me to be there."

 

Iris' cheek hurt, an uncomfortable heat worsened by soft strokes of her cold fingers. Every little thing that Cor did continued to infuriate her; his rigid body language, false pauses and repetitive excuses; her father's name withered by his voice. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there were lies in the words she was about to say to him, and knew there was some truth in _his_ , but it was the only way she was certain would hurt him and that drove her to speak them. She sniffled, tears still held back, straining her eyes, a piercing stare.

 

"You lost nothing but your favorite cock to _kneel_ for, to _bend over_ for, _royal_ cum dumpster."

 

She knew when a blow connected good. When a blade hit a vital organ and the body stiffened and went limp a few moments later, and this had been an excellent hit. Cor winced. Got up. Heavy steps towards the entrance of the cave, where a little fire was burning.

There he stood, hands behind the back, staring out into the storm, unwilling or unable to look at her. Standing at ease, for he did not know what else to do with himself.

He stood there in front of the only possible exit, not leaving but just _standing_ there, like the coward he was, _ignoring_ her. She got up, clenched fists, puffing chest. She could not back down now even if she could hear her father's voice berating her for attacking a withdrawing target. Her accusations had crossed her minds often, but remained unspoken because he was still a friend of the family, _her friend_ , despite every bad thing she blamed him for. The violence within her had nowhere to go but outwards, at him, at his silence that proved her point. The fire crackled, lighting the cave with twisted flames that matched her wild thoughts.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Might as well admit you sucked cock to get _everything_ you could out of Regis, king's _whore_."

He stood still, so very, very still, his hands clenching into fists and opening again. A long silence. He was good in those.

“This is your honest opinion about me, Iris Amicitia?“ The world outside almost drowned out his voice.

 

Confused at his question, but angry again in a split second. _I will not be ignored again like this. You don't get to steer the conversation away from your weakness._ She almost lunged from the sheer force of her voice.

"Doesn't matter what I think, only matters how much cum you've swallowed to _still_ be standing here today because that's the only thing that's ever mattered to you, isn't it? _Coward!_ "

Iris could feel that she was saying things that didn't make sense, with a deafening anger that she couldn't control, but tears were falling against her will and there was a painful sob lodged in her throat and striking at her heart: he needed to feel pain, no matter which weapon she wielded.

A slow nod, and still the damn whore turned his back to her, still a bloody coward.

“Why doesn't it matter what you think, Iris?“

His voice still so very collected. The short outburst minutes ago seemed the only emotion he had to give.

Iris was crying now, crying from anger and confusion at how much it hurt to be _this_ angry, at how frustrating it was to talk to Cor, to talk to a fucking piece-of-shit wall. Crying that she had said all those things that had been on her mind and there was no turning back now, she had to continue, and he just _would not fucking listen_.

 

"Stop _fucking_ asking! Why should I tell you? You only listen to the words that you want to hear anyway, you ignore everything I've said!" Her voice was strained and it hurt to speak, her body shuddering, heaving.

"There! That's what I think, _cocksucker_!" A loud yell amidst a sob.

Through the fog before her eyes, through her own heartbeat and her labored breathing, she barely noticed him approaching. Standing before her. Kneeling down at her feet in silence, a warrior awaiting punishment, his head bowed down, the bright eyes closed.

Iris almost kicked him, shock and a scream at him suddenly being in front of her. She took a step back, disgusted and surprised at how fucking _low_ the coward could go, on his knees like a _whore_ , surrendering by his uselessness or whatever _the fuck_ he was doing, rather than attacking back or yelling or just doing _something_ to explain or defend himself, to match the extent of her rage. She stared at his head, shifting in place, muscles in her legs tensing, wanting to kick him, debating if she should. But she was also scared, scared of what Cor was going to do. And she just wanted the hurt she was feeling to _stop_.

 

"What is the matter with you!" She screeched, her lovely face wretched with tears.

“Fucking do it. If you truly think if that is what I am, a dirty whore and a coward and a liar, do with me what an Amicitia does with those. You got enough of an arsenal on you for it. For if I haven't failed only my king, or your dad, but even _you_ , I'm a fucking waste of air.“

She realized that she wasn't the only one crying.

The girl clutched her aching chest. There was a stabbing in her heart, a pounding in her head. Iris wiped away tears from her face. _Tears_. She saw them; from _his eyes_ , falling off his cheekbones onto the cold hard ground. So he was capable of reaction, there was emotion within him, he was human. He could cry.

The tears pissed her off.

"You fucking _cockroach_. How can you be so useless, so worthless." Low, slow, a momentary restraint.

Iris struck him on the head with fists wet with tears. Hard, menacing on all the places of the skull she knew would hurt. A torrent of punches, reverberating like a distorted war drum against the walls of the cave. Cor had repeated her words and thoughts back to her, she had heard them clearly, but doubt and fear were starting to dissolve their meaning now. Iris wanted to just destroy the utter indifference, self-pity and futility that he represented, that he commended just by existing. Cor didn't make a single attempt to resist or shield from the attack, not even when she started kneeing him in the face, his head held in place with her clawing hands: malleable, yet still hard like stone.

"How can you just _cry_! You have nothing to cry for, you fucking selfish bitch!"

 

Iris kept attacking, yelling debasement and violence onto him. One or two more knees in the face with a strength that was faltering. She could very well _destroy_ him, just like that, kick him to death like a sick dog without teeth, but with each punch, each hit taken by him, she staggered.

She didn't want _this_. She didn't want him to _not_ be here, she didn't want him to _go away_ like everyone else. Through the haze that clouded her mind, through the red and the rage and the fire, an emptiness grew, washing away the hate, leaving nothing but ruins and rust.

Iris held onto his back to steady herself for a moment, before letting go, stepping away on trembling legs, a new pain in her knees from attacking with frenzy, without thought.

 

"I don't want.. to.. you're not ... I-"

She was gasping. She sat down on the ground with a loud thump and sobbed into her red hands.

He still was on his knees, but barely so, his face a red mess of torn skin and rapidly swelling tissue. He spit. The little _plink_ of a tooth hitting the rocky ground.

“Hey.“ It sounded strange with a broken nose.

One hand stretched out, reached for her, and that was enough to topple him over. He fell like a log onto the stone.

 

Everything hurt. It hurt to cry, breathe, think. Her lungs felt like they were expanding to burst with each deep breath she took in effort to release all the chaos within her, to control herself. She was afraid, felt something like a panic stir her. As she held her own face blood rubbed onto her cheeks, the intense red diluted by tears. Her hands were burning with pain, knuckles ruined, bits of skin hanging, split at the joints. Her tiny fingers she did not dare to bend or look at. As much as she had been taught how to fight, how to injure, how _to kill_ , she had never gotten accustomed to the sight of blood. It made her scared each and every time she saw it still. There was something about it just spilling out whether in a single drop or oozing from a wound that disturbed her so. She could smell it, knew there must be more of it, beyond what was drying on her hands. Iris felt sick. Her sobs were loud, continuous in their painful utterance. It was the only thing she could hear and the only thing she wanted to hear. She had heard a noise some time ago, not her own nor nature's, but she ignored it, paralyzed in abject misery.

Iris swallowed hard. _How could a breath hurt her throat and chest so badly?_ Her senses slowly returning to claim her body. She moved her hands from her face, careful not to look at them, putting them on the ground behind her back, out of view. She stretched out her legs and glanced at them, another controlled breath. Her pants were damp and red at the knees. Her breathing was steadying, only seized by involuntary shivers now and then. She was calm now. She raised her head.

She saw him lying there.

 

_You did this, Iris._

 

The thing on the floor was still alive, somehow, taking wet little breaths. _Black and red_. Usually those she destroyed did not remain, were too infected with the Scourge to remain after what little _red_ there still was in them left them, and now, there was so, so much of it. _Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?_

She did this. The rage of the Amicitia, the rage she had sometimes witnessed in her dad and her grandpa, that seemed to have skipped her brother, it was still in the family.

Leonis still looked human from the waist down, the rock beneath him wet and glistening. _Black and red. Black and red_. Somewhere in the mess up there was an eye, pale and blue like the winter sky, still focused on her, or trying to. She saw how it dithered, fighting against oblivion.

 

Iris stalled for a moment, not knowing what to do first. Quickly she found her bag. A sharp gasp left her mouth as she clutched the strap. Her fingers hurt so much, cold air kissing lacerations, cuts stretching skin, stinging with every movement, she wanted to scream. She knelt down next to him, slipped a hand under a shoulder and turned him on his side. _Why are you so heavy?_ Despite her aversion of blood, her fear of what she would see, she had to take a look, to assess the damage. _Her damage._ What used to be his stern face was now gushing and mangled, like a crushed soft fruit. _So much blood._ His breaths somehow deafened her own hammering pulse, a disturbing noise, sounding like it came from a desolate place deep within. Iris knew that she had to remain calm, had to save him, had to do something _now_ , but she started crying again, a creeping fear.

"Cor! What do I do?"

Iris knew what to do, had been trained in and helped tend wounded before, but never like this. Never with someone who she knew, someone who was practically kin to her, who she _loved_ , someone who may as well be dying. By her hand. Her mind went blank.

Turning him on his side was _good_ , she knew it, but it brought new red. He retched and spit, having swallowed too much of his own blood. No words, no answers. Cor was beyond clear orders now, but she felt his touch, his hand on her leg, weak and cold, but it was there, and he was there _with her_ , still was.

_You'll manage, my girl._

 

The storm still raged on outside but those noises, _his noises,_ were the most disturbing sounds she had ever heard, so nearly _vanishing_ yet so loud. It made the hairs on her neck stand up and her stomach turn. It made her so, so scared. She rummaged through her bag, _why did she have so much shit?_ before she found what she was looking for, _the fucking bottle of fucking elixir_.

With her hand she held his face, trying to move it without moving his head, putting her fingers in his mouth to open and purse his split lips for the liquid. She poured into his mouth, slowly, a little at a time, blood still coming out like thin paint. She tried not to look at it or into it, keeping her focus only on the elixir drops, making sure they entered and stayed in there, but it was unavoidable. She could see that his teeth were stained, darkened with blood. There was a large gap between them that was not supposed to be there, a hole that seemed to suck her gaze into a crimson abyss. Her punches had cost him a tooth, and some of the others seemed loose.

There were no pearly whites of the smile she remembered having seen once when she had given him a badly made drawing full of all her favorite colors and people, her rendition of him a tall, skinny blackened figure with big hands and big ears on a big head.

With the bottle emptied there was nothing she could do but wait. Iris looked at him, the movements of his broad chest so still, so nearly not moving. Her eyes followed the arm that laid outstretched, touching her leg. It was the only part of his body that seemed to still possess a strength, a will. With her small hand she picked up the limp one. She could not tell if the elixir was working, the sounds that continued to leave him were no indication. Iris held his hand tightly, gritting teeth, scorning the hurt it caused in her fingers. _Still no changes._

She lifted his head and slid a leg under, carefully, _very carefully_ , cradling his head in her lap. She fiddled with her bag again, producing a piece of cloth this time. With delicate motions Iris started to clean her mess. It was alarming how fast and how lightly the blood dribbled down his thick throat, behind his ears, how it seeped through the cloth, onto his collar and her pants. It just wouldn't _stop_ , no matter how much she wiped away. Iris whimpered.

Finally, when the blue eye became still, so very still, the elixir did _something_. A glow in the dark hollow of his mouth, tiny sparks like fireflies that danced on his last breaths.

Magic was fickle these days, rarely working as intended with the king gone so long, but she saw them settle onto the gashes on his skin and melt into the flesh below.

For a long time, nothing changed, but that at least meant nothing changed for the worse. Less fresh blood, maybe, or now and then a breath less labored?

Iris kept wiping away with the soiled cloth. It was beyond soaked, useless, yet it was all she got and all she could do. Dried blood was given a gentle scrub now that she sensed improvement. She picked at crusted pieces of skin, still not having tended to those on her own hands. She was determined to wipe it all away, to undo her mistake. She was still crying softly, sometimes a tiny whisper of a word, a _name_ fell from her lips.

 

A twitch of the winter blue, a sudden movement. He blinked, slowly, careful. Focused his gaze on the weeping girl. Managed, this time.

 

A startled breath left Iris when she recognized a blue orb amidst the blood, shining like a lighthouse to a lifeboat on a rampant sea, still floating, a chance for rescue. She looked into his eyes, her own throbbing with a blurry vision. She wasn't sure if she could see much of a reaction, her own tiny reflection staring back at her for a while. No signs of how he was faring, if he was even coming along despite the magic working, despite him appearing better, the wounds less severe. Somehow she didn't want to know, it was a reverse telling of how much damage she had caused, how much she had hurt him, how close she might have been to actually have done _it_.

The aftermath of the violence exerted, the rage let loose was crushing her body in its tight grip. She could barely keep her head up, a strain in her neck, a ringing in her ears, her body lashing out in pain in ways she never knew. Bones felt sharp and somehow misplaced beneath her skin. She probably should be taking care of her hands but she decided she would manage. _Is this what a broken finger feels like?_ She winced, but for now, she just wanted to do something _right_ , to mend him, even she was doing nothing but trying to be make him clean, pure again. As if he was just a toy she had played with too roughly, a lost eye she just could sew on, as if she could fix everything _just like that_. She knew she couldn't, things would not be the same between them, _they_ wouldn't be the same, but _still_ , she needed him to be cleansed of the blood.

It was her fault, she knew it, but everything was a haze, and every time she tried to think of how they arrived to this point, she floundered, confused. _Cor, why did you... Did I really do this? Did I really almost.. Cor._ Her heart sank, a sob swallowed, a need to yelp and to beg for forgiveness at the top of her lungs. Iris heard her father's voice. _You cannot cry your way out of this._ She wished for guidance, a guidance she knew didn't exist, there was no guidance for this, how could there be? She remained quiet, only a teary hiccup from time to time.

 

Cor's face was still red, smeared, faded spirals where she was still trying to gently rid of specks of blood with a clothed fingertip, but pale skin emerged through here and there, cold whenever her fingers grazed.

"Cor... why... I'm _sorry_." Cor never flinched whenever he could feel tears splatter on his face.

“Don't“. Barely spoken, but his fingers tensing on her leg. It _hurt_ , really did. Some immortal he was. He should have known it was a bad idea, should have known it was something that she _needed_ years ago. Cor had been very aware that there was something between them, but he had hoped for it to just go away as she grew older. It had not.

"Cor, Cor..." His short name was stretched out thin like her voice, begging him to give her something to hold onto, a rope to pull her into a refuge of some kind.

The cloth that had been white and dry at the start of their journey was put aside, a gross wet sound as it stuck to the ground, leaking red. Iris began to run a hand through his short hair, soft, mending touches over his swollen forehead. The other caressed his cheek, still wiping, still weeping, and the fire still burned, the blood that remained on both of their faces turning them into wild beasts or men of the past in its primitive, necessary light.

Iris lowered her head to whisper into his torn ear.

"...Don't _leave_ me, Cor."

He murmured something, his own name or _cold_ or _come_ , and she heard his breathing calm. Faint glowing veins where the elixir made new tissue grow like ice crystals over a window pane.

The fragrance of roses rising from him, drowning out copper and smoke.

 

Iris looked up at the cave's ceiling, illuminated dark, hard and old, older than she could ever comprehend. Shadows on the rocky surface played, dancing, slashing and impaling themselves along jagged edges. She carefully moved her leg, hands holding and guiding softly as she lowered his head onto the ground, got up, a painful stretch. They only carried absolute necessities on their hunts, potions, some food, weapons; their sleeping bags light and rarely warm enough. Or rather, Cor did. Despite his frequent lectures and comments about using valuable space, Iris found great fun in annoying him, defying him, carrying other items. They were mostly small and impractical in their use; figurines, pins, jewelry. Items she couldn't be without, things that she believed possessed luck or divine assistance, memories that she could always return to in her mind, but that she absolutely needed to able to _feel_ and _hold_ , to carry _always_. She found a blanket in her sleeping bag, discolored, moth-eaten, but heavy and soft. _Her blanket_. She returned to him, pulled it over his body, trying to cover as much of him as she could, tugging him in the way she remembered her father tugging her in as a child, his arms and legs still heavy to move despite their limpness.

Iris walked towards the fire, carrying her bag, sat down to work on her destroyed hands. They needed a thorough treatment, she knew it, but it was beyond her strength to do so now. She just gentle rinsed and wrapped them in bandage. _Out of sight, out of mind._

There was hard rain and cold wind when Iris looked out into the darkness, both nearly invisible to her eyes, but unmistakable to her ears. She wondered if she should leave, if that would be better, if her father would berate her for running away. The more she thought of her father, and her brother, thought of how disappointed, how utterly devastated they must be of her and her terrible mistake, the more she felt the need to run.

 

“Iris?“ A groan as he tried to sit up after what felt like hours later, even if it was not long after she bandaged her hands. Dark thoughts had dragged her down into the depths, making every moment a little purgatory.

Her name grounded her in place, in desperate arrest on the cold ground, in shelter of the storm still. Whether she wanted to get up to _get out_ or to go to him, her body stayed fastened, as if bound by chains.

His voice sounded more like him now, more like a man that could _survive_ , no trace of hurt, stress, _near-death_. Iris glanced over her shoulder, keeping her head low, hidden. A quick look. He didn't look like him, still struggling to sit upright, covered by the blanket, rising as if just waking from slumber. She turned her head again, staring into the fire. New tears.

 

“I'm sorry.“ _Sorry for making you do this. Sorry for letting things come this far. Sorry for not noticing earlier._ He coughed, the taste of blood and bile on his tongue.

 

Iris didn't move, still staring at the flames. The words that she had wanted to hear or say, or needed to hear or say before she pulled them both over the edge, setting things in motion she couldn't stop, made her feel nothing now. An apology. _What did it matter now?_ She knew this was something beyond apology, beyond moving on from, _irreversible_ , it's meaning empty, lost in the magnitude of what she had done. Iris took a deep breath, sniffled.

"No, Cor, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.. I shouldn't.. I'm _horrible_. I'm sorry." A low and steady voice into the fire.

“I should have talked to you. Talked to you way earlier. I know I can't be your dad, can never fill the hole he left, much as I would like to.“ He rubbed his face. “And I'm sorry I'm not better in this.“

This voice was quiet and so very sincere.

 

"Talked about what? There's nothing to talk about.. There's nothing to talk about now. How could this, how could this have been avoided if we _just_ talked, Cor? Can't talk this away.."

Not anger, but frustration, a desire to still make sense of _every damn thing_. It hurt. They had survived the fall somehow, fallen into a tranquil sea and now they could float, swim, _climb_. _The only way is up_ her father used to say, when she cried, defeated. All Iris could sense for them now was an impossible climb, no way to reach through to the surface. Her dad... _How would he have solved this? Would he still have loved her?_ She didn't know. It hurt.

 

"Fuck."

She heard him get up, or try to. Don't whimper because of a little pain. Not even in front of her. Especially not in front of her. Fold the blanket neatly. Lie it down at her side.

"You're right. Words won't make you believe me. Won't make you trust in my will to die for those I love if that is what is needed." He bit his lip. _She wouldn't understand. No sane person did._

"Cor... " She still didn't look at him, couldn't face him so close, her marks on his face still visible.

"I don't want you to.. die. I don't want you to die _ever_." _Please don't leave me_. Bandaged hands concealing her face.

 

She felt his eyes on her, noticed how he held his breath, searching for the right words. _You're the second one who gives me that order. Will that make me your whore in the eyes of the world?_ He did not say that. Squatted down in front of her instead.

"Understood." His hand around one of her small ones, dirt on the fresh bandages. Not pulling it from her face. This was very much _her decision_.

Iris pressed her hands closer to her face, a strength emerging to press reality out with bleeding fingers, to keep it _blackened_ , his hand the only link to back, a reassuring squeeze.

Of course she knew that she had asked Cor for the impossible, that death was inevitable, non-negotiable, and that perhaps he had just answered what she wanted to hear. Perhaps this was just a game they were playing, where whatever they did or said had no meaning or consequence, where nothing really mattered and nothing really could die. _She had killed him and he survived._ Iris didn't know if she was comforted by his answer, if she could believe there was something of a promise behind it, but if he somehow just _understood_ that she _needed_ him, through her twisted actions and words, through her desperate cries and yells, then _yes_ , she wanted to hear him hear her pleas and acknowledge them, in almost any manner possible.

Iris held his hand tightly as she moved hers from her face, letting them rest in the space between her and Cor, her gaze following downwards and staying on her hands around his. For a few heartbeats his shadow loomed over her, dark and comforting, until she felt him wrapping his arms around her. Gently at first, trying his best to be careful with this delicate little bird, leaving her room to escape. Iris leaned into the hug, her small face buried in his broad, hard shoulder. Body and mind exhausted, she began to weep softly.

He held her wordlessly, not even trying to keep her from releasing what should not be held inside. That, at least, was something he was decent at.

  
Once again the cave was filled with wretched cries as Iris couldn't control her emotions, dread, hurt, sorrow, _relief_. Her tiny fingers clawing at the shirt under his jacket, a tight grip, almost ripping fabric, almost toppling Cor. Iris cried and cried and cried, her whole body a shaking wreckage from effort to release all her tears, to let everything go.


	2. Spills

They had fallen asleep in each others arms, all of their power spent in pain and anger and tears, and they woke hours later, still clinging to each other like lost children. The fire had almost burned down.

“Iris? Be right back, okay?“ Cor mumbled, needing a few moments before he was able to let go of the warm little bundle human in his arms.

 Iris still had not gotten used to the lasting dark, still expecting to wake to the first light of day, and it were Cor’s movements that stirred her awake. It was his usual voice, the low, groggy tone that indicated that it was morning, or whatever passed for morning now. So they were both still here, hunters in a hidden cave, bound to get up, to meet and tackle the new day, for there were tasks that needed to be done. _A new day_ , with the usual routines that could take them back to reality, away from the calamity of last night, to the past, to what they were before. _Just like that?_ Iris fretted in sleepy thoughts. She was still exhausted.

She had clung to him, pressed against his unmoving boulder of a body, as close as she dared, resting her head on his arm, twisting and turning in the grip of a troubled sleep. She remembered moving his arms for no reason other than she was restless and he had just let her, like a stuffed toy. Iris wasn't sure if Cor had been asleep. He never said anything, only breathing through his nose and letting his arms fall around her whenever she shifted position, a hand nesting in her hair once when she had tried to still tears again. It was a weird sense of closeness, of safety that eventually guided her to deep sleep. A safety she had never experienced before, not like this, lying in somebody's arms. She suddenly missed her father's hugs.

Iris pulled the blanket over her body, hiding under it. An escape, a chance to fight back the sinking feeling that started to overwhelm her in secret.

This morning, or what counted for morning, was different from usual. Not by a lot, but after he put new wood onto the fire it wasn't the usual routine of him making coffee and fixing whatever they'd have for breakfast. Instead he came back to lie down behind her, close, closer than she would have dared, and held her tight.

“Want to sleep some more?“

In his embrace Iris made herself so small, almost fetal, bringing knees to chest, his arms trapped between them. Her face was still hidden under the blanket, the fabric still smelling like childhood despite blood that had stained here and there. She shuddered at the warmth and volume that suddenly surrounded her, surprised at the lightness and strength his arms possessed when moving with purpose. It was a gentle hold, an anchor to keep Iris from floating away, and her body relaxed slowly into this unexpected hug, making her feel a bit more at ease. She gripped his arm, a clothed claw lying along his elbow, like a ridiculous sheet ghost. The girl didn't know what else to do, holding back unsure words, a lump in her throat.

"Could use another nap," he mumbled after a while, trying carefully what he decided to do more often yesterday - talking. Careful and in little doses.

 If he was honest, _nap_ in this case was a day of rest or two. The girl had been even stronger than expected, and while he had been only too willing to perish in the flames of her wrath, he hadn't thought the consequences of surviving to be so dire. He wasn't used to being seriously hit anymore, did his best to avoid that, and the way his body hurt made him feel _old_.

Under her veiled world she just nodded, not caring if Cor could see or sense it. Why did it seem familiar yet so strange, this childish play? Was this his attempt at reconciling, at forgiving her? Cor was never one to give over like that. He was caring, sometimes gentle, but rarely sweet. Only once when she had awful cramps did he surprise her with his softness, attentive, almost _motherly_ concern. Iris knew she couldn't act like a child, she _wasn't_ , no one who could remember the sun was, but she still craved it, still needed to play pretend once in a while. She knew she whined too much, made hunts unnecessarily harder, always exploring or making noise or getting distracted, but it was remnants of her childhood. Talcott, Gladdy, _Cor_. _All she had left_. She had to stop hiding soon, she knew it.

 She held on, why or to what she wasn't sure, grasping for anything at this point, to exist in a dream world for just a moment longer.

"...Cor?" At least his name still felt right to say, no fear of backlash, stern words _yet_.

“Mh?“ He sounded half asleep already. A touch to the crown of her head under the blanket that might have been a kiss.

"I miss my dad."

“Mh.“ His hug grew tighter. “Would be weird if you wouldn't. He's your dad.“

"Do you think... that he would still love me? After.. after this? After what I've done... " with each word despair and regret filled her, becoming the blood of her body. "I'm so sorry!" Iris crumbled under the blanket, a rag doll to hold.

 “There once...“ Cor took a moment to find words. He wasn't much of a storyteller. “There once was a young man, a little bit older than you are now. I was quite fresh in Regis' service, still trying to prove myself with any means possible. Gilgamesh hadn't been enough. In his eyes, that was only plain dumb and a cry for attention of a useless kid, and he told me that, again and again. Told me I was there for fame and pride, that my heart was not into it. That I wasn't willing to give up what little I had for his majesty. No matter what I told him, no matter what I did, he wouldn't believe me.“ His hand pulled at the blanket and freed a bit of Iris' face, making sure she wouldn't suffocate down there.

  
“One night, I met him on a night out with his friends. They weren't quite sober and... quite honest with what they thought of me, and again, he told me that I was too weak. Just the king's little bitch. Told me I'd go running to Regis if he did to me what I deserved. I remember staring at him, and fucking _smiling_ , because I indeed was an idiot sometimes, trying to be fearless in all things, and he smiled too, and then he hit me. Hard. _Is this all you can do, old man?_ I said, and knew a moment later I made a mistake. A shift in his stance, a little change in his eyes, and he went on to beat the living crap out of me. I let him. Didn't cry, didn't try to run. Doing everything to prove that I was serious, to earn his respect. Things between Clarus and me got better after that.“

 Cor's voice had taken on a tone she had never heard before. It was smoother and not quite his usual monotone. A strange lullaby. He almost never talked about himself or the past. The rare occasion he did, her surprise was hard to hide. She was overjoyed but managed, doing her best not to miss or stop his words. Iris listened through the blanket, a fairy tale muffled but every word captured in memory.

Her dad was full of stories. Always one on hand, relevant to whatever they were talking about, to whatever wish or question Iris had. Often a simple word was all that was needed to take him back to the past, to retell it. She loved when her dad was lost in time, reliving stories _she_ sometimes wanted to live. They were stories from before she was born, heroic deeds and adventures, strange characters and stranger twists. Some stories shrouded in mystery and seriousness. He would hint at _playtime_ with the boys, at things a young girl shouldn't know, things that she in her excitement and coyness pretended not to be hearing. He lectured about violence, sometimes of his own hands, sparse details, only told what was needed to highlight his point, his moral.

As much as Iris loved her dad she had always found there was a certain vindictiveness to him, a jagged edge; its sharpness invisible to the eye, cutting whoever got too close before they could notice it, something that perhaps stuck out from her too. She couldn't remember her father telling her a story like the one Cor was telling her now. She knew that her dad sometimes had a temper, a cruel inclination, but not like _this_ , not _beat somebody senselessly_.

The girl sniffled, dew on her cupid’s bow from breathing into blanket before Cor made her breathe into smoke and cold air. Let go from her childish hideout, her eyes were still closed, her world still black.

"I'm sorry dad did that to you... Sorry I did that to you.. I... I'm just like him, aren't I? We're both mean animals.. I... he.. " A deep breath.

It made Iris so incredibly sad. Here was a man they called their friend, someone who knew the history of their family, the intricate threads that kept them warm and woven, and this was what they had _done_ to him? That was not how she wanted to treat a friend, that was not how she wanted to be, somebody who could just forget and destroy. She started to weep.

"Dad always told me I could count on you... despite all the things he said about you."

  
An afterthought, _an apology_ for her father's wrongdoing or her own; she didn't know. Or perhaps it was a confession that she had followed in her father's footsteps too blindly, judged Cor too harshly, that she was a mean animal that only needed to be mistakenly hit once before tearing her playmate apart completely. Did it make up for it, for everything, that despite their cruelty towards him they _loved_ and _trusted_ him?

  
“Just like him...“ he repeated. Chuckled. “Clarus was my best friend. I'd love if you'd be like him.“ Callused fingers wiped away some of her tears. “Listen, Iris. I know what I do. Usually I know very well. I'm just not... very good with other people. Forget to explain why I do things. Promise me to _ask_ if I do that with you, okay?“

"But he said so many things about you, vile things.."

 Confusion as she thought back to words she had never questioned, vulgarity spit from her father's mouth. Iris stared straight ahead at grey rock walls that might as well be those in a prison, still safely tucked in Cor's arms, still held in curious tenderness.

  
"I don't like how I.. how I _hurt_ you, Cor. I don't like that at all.. I... there's no excuse.. I didn't mean to.. I don't like it at all, Cor."

Her voice a low hush, haunted. Another aching cry for forgiveness for her wretchedness, as if that would be enough to free her from what she felt.

“It was his way of releasing his anger as he grew older. Words instead of fists, and behind their back instead of into their faces. I know what he had to say about Wesk, sometimes even about Regis, even though he usually spared me from listening to that. Probably for his own sake. Still, I can very well imagine what he had to say about me.“ Gentle strokes over her hair, him trying to calm a wild little beast. “Look, Iris, it's better your anger hits me than someone who can't stand it. And it's better it happened now than somewhere in the field, or with someone who doesn't know your family's temper. If you don't like it, we can try to work on it. Find a way to cope that works for you. If that is what you _want_.“

 His words sounded reasonable enough. Iris had heard Clarus’ complaints more than once, never questioned them, what laid behind them or what he actually could be expressing, just always thought he was right, and how couldn’t he be? He was her _dad_ . Thinking back now there might have been things that didn't make sense to her even then, inconsistencies between his words about people and the way she experienced them, adored them and how she saw her dad adore them too - friendly smiles and hugs, no surly words... but right now very little was clear to her.

"Why are you taking this so easy..?" Underneath the blanket Iris still struggled to find what she actually wanted, to hear, to say, from herself, from Cor. His words didn't offer clarity. "Why are you just... acting like it's all no big deal?"

Perhaps Cor just really was a _punching bag_ like her father had said, good for nothing else. She felt ashamed of her thoughts, but the way he tried to enfeeble her worries, like her attack was a tiny slip-up that only warranted a slap on the wrist, made her feel nothing substantial could come out of this talk. Perhaps the only thing he really was capable of getting was fists, not points. _No, stop thinking like this, Iris._

 “What would it change if made it one? No crying over spilt milk. Depending on what you do now, that is. If you decide to go down that road of anger, I will not stand by and watch. If you're willing to find another way, I will be by your side till the end.“ His voice as steady as his arm.

"You're not just spilled milk, what I did was not spill milk, I spilled blood for fucks sake!"  
  
Disbelief at his ability to make it all seem so minor still. She flared up, forcefully shoved herself out of his arms, sat up straight, looking down on him with swollen red eyes.

"I don't get to sweep this under the rug just because you can take it, just because you don't want to talk about it. I almost killed you. I.. what will I tell Talcott, Gladdy? Just pretend this never happened?"

She turned away from him, hunched over, hid her sullen face in her hands.

The elixir had done its work during the hours of sleep. Not as good as new, but way, way better than before. Dried blood barely visible on his black clothes.

"Fucking nothing, Iris. You tell them nothing, for it is _your_ problem and _my_ problem and _we_ will make fucking sure it will not become _their_ problem or anybody else’s. It's a warning shot we'll take seriously, but it doesn't make you a menace to the world. If I thought that, you'd be..." He didn't finish the sentence.

"But.. that would be lying, Cor. Lying to their faces."

It would make it all worse, she felt. She could very well imagine the look on Talcott's innocent face, whether they told him or not, he would know, he would sense something had been amiss. Guilt, regret, sorrow. Whatever the Astrals wanted her to feel they were making her feel intensely.

"Do you tell them of every wound you've taken in the field? You take care of it, and you carry on. They've got more than enough to worry about, and they won't be able to help."

He got up. A few steps to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Do you _wish_ to tell your brother?"

_He was trying his best. For the first time since years. Not just giving orders, but leaving the girl her free will. An option he never had._

"No." She let out a held breath.

 

Gladdy, like her father, always kept her out of the loop about missions, wounds and scars, a protective, dismissive inflection when things got too rough or nerves too raw that she always hated. She never quite understood it, why they wouldn't let her into their world. The bond of the shields made her feel abandoned, tantrums by a jealous sibling, pleading unfairness against her, just wanted to know what they knew. Until now. There was no way she could tell Gladdy that she had lost what they worked hard for her to keep, that the things that they hid from her were staring her in the face, that now she _knew_.

The little _hm_ behind her let her know Cor had nodded. _Understood_.

"Coffee, and then we take care of your hands?"

Iris rubbed her face viciously before pulling off the blanket, bones glass-like and joints creaking as she got up, a moment to adjust and comply. On her way up she noticed the dark color of the bandages. Ruined.

  
Somewhat able to stand upright Iris looked around in the cave. She turned to inspect the places where there must be leftovers of her carnage, of Cor's sacrifice. Even against the grey ground dark spots stood out, dried patterns of blood, almost Scourge-like. If she looked at them for too long she would be pulled into them, swallowed whole.

If there was a change in the storm outside Iris didn't notice. All she ever could see was darkness, always in the edges of her vision no matter where she looked, scarcely banished by the fire. She didn't say anything, but prepared herself for what she would undergo with her hands. They were cold and numb, stiff with crust, soft fabric sticking to open dried lacerations. She dreaded what they must look like underneath the dirty bandages.

"Iris?" He had been watching her while he waited for the water to cook, a sleek black dog monitoring a wounded packmate. Something about her was _wrong_ , and he couldn't quite place it.

 

There was a weird taste in her mouth, dry quicksand coursing through her head, heavy, like a skull of lead. She walked towards him, his eyes telling a story of worry. She sat down by the fire with some difficulty, off balance, not using her hands to steady herself, a small tumble.

They both were silent, still. Fire and boiling water the most vibrant things in the cave.

"The first time I took a life," Cor said, quite casually, "I was eleven years old. And I didn't understand what I did. Not truly. It felt like I had _won_ , and like a thing that _needed to be done_." Boiling water was poured into the filter, and he watched black liquid drip into the pot below.

  
It felt like everything else stilled as she listened to his words. Gone was the noise of the droning weather outside, along with the branches croaking in the fire and the pouring of coffee. Iris could only hear Cor's voice, perfectly clear, his easy tone almost resonating to her.  
  
Her dad once told her that there would be moments in life, moments that one could sense would reveal a truth, a piece of the puzzle discovered at the bottom of the box and put into place, where meaning would shine a new light, devastating or brightening. She felt like this is what her dad had talked about, felt this was one.  
  
She focused on him, eyes and ears.

 "It wasn't until I was... eighteen? Something around that? before I realized what it meant I was doing. That those were _people like me_ , just unlucky enough to be on the wrong side of the blade. I wish I could pinpoint it to one special moment, a soldier dying in my arms, something like that, and me deciding to never kill again afterwards, or never without a good reason, but..." He shook his head. Poured coffee into two tin mugs. Handed her one. "I just woke up one day and realized I knew nothing but war. That I had killed, and that I would do it again. That I could try to be merciful and clean, but it wouldn't change a thing in the end. There is no glory in this, not for me. I know very well Clarus saw it different." He looked up to her, pupils huge and black in the winter sky. "You just realized what we taught you to do all these years, right?"

The strong smell of coffee, its warmth in her hands, somehow brought the cave back into Iris' perception, settling around her as if it haven't been there for hundred of years already. She never really thought about it like that, she knew killing was horrible, tragic, but it was necessary, _destiny_.

 Her dad had painted it like a simple game, game of survival, a noble sacrifice. Made it seem normal, an occupation. Essential to the royal family, the eminence of hers. There was no grey areas, only whose blood would bleed red. She spoke into the mug, tiny moving caffeine ridges beneath her words.

"You've.. taught me, and everyone else, how to fight, Cor, to survive. That's what.. we need to do."

She didn't dare say anything else, declare the other thoughts on her mind to him. This was for him to speak, to fill the void with significance, for her to listen. For once Iris would be quiet, wait her turn.

"There's a difference between surviving and doing the things your family does, the things I do. I wanted you to able to stand your ground, to be good enough so I wouldn't have to worry if things went bad. The rest was..." _your dad_. He didn't say that. "And my times as a teacher are long over. The _everyone else_ that learned from me were never as many as you maybe think. Teach soldiers a few tricks here and there when you meet them outside the walls, teach a civilian to fire a gun and _run_ , but that was it, even before Insomnia fell."  
  
He looked into her blank face. "You do _know_ what I did back then, don't you?"

 

She hugged her knees, sore pillow for her weary head, titled, still watching him, listening, the coffee at her feet. There had been no change in his tone, in his subject, but chills went up her spine.

"...No." She wanted to hide her face again, but stared into the fire instead.

"Reconnaissance, mostly, and discreet little undertakings on Regis' personal orders. Never been in the capital much. Useless between walls. Not much use in units, either. Useful when working alone. Tried helping out in the boonies wherever I could during that time, that was the freedom I had." A little smirk and a sip of the coffee, hot and strong.  
  
"Clarus never was happy with that, but he understood that it would have been a waste to keep me there, and I always came back, sooner or later."

There was something unsaid, like the hushed-up answers her dad would give her about his time away that made her feel that she was still being treated like a child, wishing that things would just be said and taken from there.  
  
She didn't press on, bit her tongue and just nodded.

"The folks back at the palace seemed more cruel than the daemons to me sometimes. Needlessly so,” he continued. “Cruel and proud and so terribly _loud_..." Filled with mockery and machismo and competitiveness, making sure everyone of them stayed in line.

  
Iris picked up her mug, still not a lover of the taste. _Gross fucking bean water._ A grimace still unconquered as she poured the filthiness over her lips. She always tried to like or pretend to like the taste, a trial to undergo, a passage into adulthood by her reasoning. This mug of hot sludge didn't bring her closer to achieving it.

"You gotta be tough, willing to take and deal punches.. that's what Dad used to say to Gladdy."

Her brother's frustration during his shield training was often taken out on her unintentionally, her ability to annoy him with the smallest, innocent need for attention resulting in a shove too forceful or a yell too angry. She hated it, always fought back with screams, stomps, tiny claws or thrown objects. She never really thought about why things were like that during that period, just wanted to be with her brother whenever he was home.

"I don't see why it is wise to struggle with your next one, to forget the problems at hand about useless infighting. And why don't you just tell me you'd rather have tea, because my coffee is like tar and will never get better, no matter what I do?"

  
He had noticed. Maybe weeks ago. Each day asking her if she wanted some, each day watching her little internal _Ewww_ , just waiting for her to say _something_.

 It seemed like such a trivial thing to focus on now. _Tea or coffee?_ Perhaps trivial things were things that would always remain, unchanged no matter what happened. Iris took another disgusting sip.

"Dad never really told me.. how you joined the Crownsguard? Just told me he had to train some kid, a little shit." She always had wanted to know, maybe now she could coax it out of him, the marshal's rare spilling tongue.

“Do you know how you look when you drink coffee?“ That was no answer to her question _at all_ , but the little wrinkles around his eyes scrunched together. He was _smiling_.

_So_ there was still things that she had no reach to with him, but at his smile, rare and precious, concealing who knows what, Iris played along.

"Can't be worse than what you look like with a broken nose."

A smile, a very necessary, natural smile, playful and cheery, for it to work. _Could they still bullshit each other?_ She had to try, see how strong the ties were between them still, see if they had been torn and cut.

 He felt the slight crook that remained on the bridge of his nose, memory of their battle before.  
  
"Guess I won't be getting all the girls anymore." A tiny twitch in the corner of his mouth.

"Is that why you joined the Crownsguard?"

Still cheeky, still pushing, always testing limits she knew she probably shouldn't. There was a warmth inside her, slight and curious, that wasn't from the coffee.

“When I was a kid at military academy, I spent my free time reading the old tales. Knights and samurai, dedicated to serve one master, and one master only. It was a better way to spend those hours than with boys twice my age that were there because their parents forced them to go. Those tales... they sounded so right to me...“

He came over to her and sat down at her feet, his kit at his side. A soft little pat on her hand while he kept on talking.

“My father sent me there after mother died. It was the only world we knew, so it seemed the right thing to do at the time.“

Iris stared up at the tall marshal, her dark eyes set on his pale face as he crouched down in front of her. Still so damn tall even sitting down, even if she had grown in height since they first met. The tallness she used for fun, another kind of toy, sitting on his shoulders as a child, finally able to surpass her brother and father, moving her arms like a bird, pulling at leaves and fruits on trees.

  
It was odd sitting here now, face to face with Cor, the rabbit treating the wolf with indiscriminate care and warmness. Iris wasn't sure what she could expect, this was an unfamiliar wound. _And all caused by me. Idiot_.

Besides this night, Iris couldn't recall moments of Cor being close and familiar like that. Sure, they weren't afraid of touches, that happened during attacks, desperate close calls. It was mostly her needing assurance, hairs swept away from her distressed face to let her know it was alright to look. Other touches were rare occurrences, a lingering pat on her shoulder, a reluctant showing of his palm when she demanded high-fives. _No high-fives for a while, I guess._

Pleasant coolness soon soothing the burn as he soaked the crusted cotton in water, letting it macerate for a little while.

“Then, one day in winter, two weeks after my ninth birthday, we received an unexpected visitor. One of high birth and royal blood. A young prince with raven hair, and as I saw him, I _knew_ my path.“ Carefully he unwrapped the little hands.

"You knew your path..? "

  
Iris pondered the word. _Path._ Her dad, her brother, they both had a path, a shared heritage, she wasn't sure if she had one herself. She wanted to probe further, to know if it was the same path he followed still, but somehow it felt dangerous to ask.

Unraveling of grimy bandage exposed fresh air to the skin beneath upper layer. Clear drops of water changed to rust as they fell from her palm, and dried blood scraped off as Cor carefully cleaned her hands like they had been the tool of a gruesome finger painting; slick wet, red, brown, white, puss and clots.

Calm eyes inspected the scenery, carnage caused by carnage.

"A place in life where I wanted to belong so dearly I was willing to give everything for it. Seeing him there, only in passing, was like seeing a god walking this earth for me."

Ever so softly he was washing her wounds, hands brittle like a robin egg in his callused ones.

"I didn't understand that it wasn't the place of a commoner to be, or I didn't _want_ to understand. Just wanted those green eyes to look upon me with kindness, and him to tell me I did good. Fucking daddy issues." The crack as he set the bone of her little finger straight underlined his curse.

She listened, surprise at his candid devotion to the same king her father protected through friendship and duty. She had never heard anyone talk about the king like that before. There was still something that Cor said she didn't quite understand when sudden pain speared through her feeble bone. _Holy shit._ She did not want to scream him in the face, curses and cries stuck in her throat. This was her own damn fault. Her eyes watered.

  
He held her wrist tight until the pain that flooded over her brought her back to the rocky shore.  
  
"Good girl."

"Fucking hell, Cor, it _hurts_." Curses with every breath, tears falling freely now, and he just nodded. Knew very well it did, and could not help it, for it had to be done.

"So.. your path lead you to become marshal?" An attempt after a while to distract herself, a question forced through gritted teeth, tension in her jaw.

"My path led me to be an obnoxious _little shit_ , starving for attention from a married man ten years his senior. Not being the right kind of person to spend a life the palace led to becoming marshal." He was working fast now, his voice and his breath still calm. Tiny red stars between their hands as he dabbed down potion, held holes together so the magic had an easier time teaching her flesh what it was supposed to be.

 What Cor had said, what she could hear over her attempts to keep still and not pull away from him sounded very much like things she had heard before. It was a tricky listening to him, her dad's venom coming from _his_ mouth now, what she had repeated and amplified with vulgarity at the top of her lungs just hours ago. What difference was there? She couldn't make out Cor's intention behind the spoken words. She looked at him with worry, the worry if he was thinking back to her insults now bigger than that about her hands.

“I've changed, Iris. At least I hope I did. We don't have to stay what we are if we don't like it.“

The other hand's turn now. This one not as bad, not as painful as the first. It was due to the extraordinary circumstances he kept _talking_ , kept spilling thoughts he'd never share otherwise.

"You didn't like yourself back then...? And now?"

The last line couldn't be anything but directed at her, a letter from his past to her future self. Another tear wiped away in an attempt to be braver than she felt.

“A bit better, but then, I'm a grumpy old man, and I only really started to notice the amount of my discontent when I already was one. It makes things harder.“ A short smile that felt like an excuse. “See, your leading hand ain't that bad. Things will be right as rain in a few hours, at least those we can touch.“ For a change, he _said that_ , her small hand still in his.

For a moment Iris just watched her hand lie weightless in his, a youthful rescued hand in an aged, weathered palm; wrinkles where she had none, small scars snuck in between, calloused, rough skin and hangnails; a hand which probably had killed more than healed? With a finger she followed lines, drew circles, tickled before bending his fingers softly with her other hand, trapping her hand in his, and his hand in hers, barely.

 "..Thank you, Cor."


	3. Visitor

Cor had been right. A little more sleep was a good idea, and Iris lay cradled in his arms as they drifted into dreams that were filled with memories of the sun. It had been easier to find each other this time, or just not to lose each other in the dark around them.

The world outside slowly calmed, and a mild fog crawled out of the muddy ground, a white shroud that reflected what little light remained.

With his warmth her blanket was demoted to a snuggle toy, her head nuzzled into the softness of revisited childhood. She had noticed Cor stare at the bloodied parts as she had bundled it but he said nothing.

 

No physical pain or choked feelings to steal her sleep yet Iris lied awake once, massaging and rubbing her hands when his arm moved, sneaking his hand under them to lift up and check their condition, before lowering them back onto the blanket. A soft squeeze. The sun still didn't rise when Iris opened her eyes, but somehow it all seemed weirdly brighter.

His sleep had been deep and filled with dreams, and she felt him moving under her, a sleeping dog hunting something larger than life.

 

He returned to the living with a stretch that made his joints crack, and as soon as he realized what that weight on him was, he wrapped his arms around her again.

"Bit better now?", he mumbled, and he felt her nod against his chest.  _ Just another five heartbeats. Astrals, I -missed- this. How long has it been? _ He kept his eyes closed. Things might just  _ disappear _ again if he did not. It was only a low grumble that set him into motion, a sound deep and loud and so very close that... "Hungry, Iris?"

Still a bit dazed Iris lifted her head off his chest, his heartbeat in her ear fading. A moment to figure out what he had said as she sat up, her hair like a disgruntled cat's, her posture too.

".. I could eat." Nonchalant, as if her stomach wasn't growling still. Iris yawned loudly, arms like wings stretching dramatic in every direction before she rubbed sleep out of her eyes.

"Get the fire going. I'll make pancakes."

And that he did, from flour they had brought and a basilisk's egg they stole from a nest they came across, and with them some mushrooms, because mushrooms were one of the rare things that grew a plenty in this new world, and he made coffee for himself and  _ tea _ for her.

Iris stuck a hand in her bag and sugar packets rustled in her palm, different fancy designs, scavenged from hotels and cafés on their way across all of destroyed Lucis. They were carefully examined, a choice to make. Which pretty wrapper did she like the least, which could she open and throw away? It wasn't that they were rationed that she hadn't used any to sweeten the loathsome dark drink; she saved them for special occasions on the road, treats like these, pancakes and tea.

"... Do you even  _ like _ the taste of coffee?" An accusation, a disbelief that the stuff could be anybody's necessity still.

A slight wrinkle of Cor's brows. "I probably got used to it over the years, as to most of the bitter adult things, and somewhere on the road, I started to like it."

"So is that what being an adult is, growing bitter and liking it?"

It was more to keep the silence filled than an actual question. Not that there was a discomfort in the air, not this time, they were somehow already far from that, it was just nice to hear him talk. Iris sat for a while, watching the fire, letting her thoughts wander for the first time in a while, enjoying the motley smell of coffee, tea, pancakes and ashy wood. It did seem to her that most adults were bitter beings incapable of fun, or what she perceived as  _ fun _ . She had never thought of Cor as bitter though. If anything he was  _ sweet _ . Her thoughts wandered back to what had passed, what she remembered him saying.

They always had their small trivial talks, even during dangerous situations. Serious or deeper discussions sometimes happened, but personal stories from his side were almost non-existent. There never really was an appropriate time for asking, even if Iris loved to blabber about her family and thoughts. On hunts Cor was always focused at the task at hand and at camps they were both too tired for significant talking.

"Your parents.. you never talked about them before. Were they not nice?"

The words were out of Iris' mouth before she could even think if it was still appropriate to ask, she was just blissfully lost in the new world that had emerged out of their bloodied hands in the cave.

Cor stopped for a moment. Chewing. Breathing. While formulating an answer to her first question, the second one came as a surprise. Parents. Yeah. They were a thing he had. Even him.

"Nice? Don't know about that. Soldiers, both of them. My mother lost her life on duty when I was six. Father didn't cope well. Didn't cope well with things she left behind, things that included me. I was among the liabilities he preferred to free himself from, and who am I to blame him for it. Times were hard. Still are." A sip of coffee to wash down the bitter taste in his mouth.

Iris poured sugar over her pancake, taking a long time to spread it out such a small amount. She was a bit stumped, needing to figure out how approach him now rather than just say the first thing that came to mind. It wasn't until Insomnia fell that she really understood that there were sides of Cor that differed from her image of him, but had always been there. Everybody had secrets, losses, a way to cope, but it always seemed like he was invulnerable to it all, capable of watching nightmares unfold without dissolving, eyes wide open.

"...Do you know what happened to your dad?"

She stretched her hand, waving an unopened sugar packet in his view, knowing that he didn't want it, didn't like to sweeten things, but she felt she needed to offer him something; kindness, understanding, besides the sorrowfulness of her eyes.

He took it nonetheless, carefully turning it between his fingers, studying every small detail of the little lamb in a teacup that was printed on it.

"He always liked drinking. Smoking. Became worse when she was gone. No more reason to stop, I guess. We lost contact over the years. Was one of those kids that spent the holidays in school among those that lost their family and had no place to go. Grew used to it." The sugar was handed back to her, but his hand remained, thumb and index finger gently holding onto one of hers.

"I was 26 when they called me. He was in hospital and things weren't looking too good. If I wanted to come along. Put stuff in order. Say my goodbyes.  _ Sure _ I said. I hadn't seen him for over a decade then, maybe things would be good in the end. Maybe he wanted to see me one last time, to make his peace." Cor swallowed hard, his voice throaty. "It was a beautiful day in summer, and he didn't even recognize me. Barely remembered having a son at all. Had only one leg left, they had to amputate the other one. Unhealthy lifestyle and dementia. Not even a soldier's death." A strange little breath that resembled a laugh or a sob, Iris wasn't sure. "He would have hated that. To die like a fucking wussy. Like a  _ civilian _ ." She saw how his teeth were grinding, how his eyes were focused on the little bit of her he was holding onto.

"Death was expensive those days, and they needed someone to pay. Main reason why they called me. Palace gave me a few days off for mourning. Got drunk off my ass. Was mourning indeed. Not so much his death as not feeling sorry about losing him. The thought that I should feel  _ something _ hit me harder than I thought."

Iris noticed the little diversion of tones in the corners of his voice. It broke her heart. His story, his choice and action of telling it as revelation to her that in him there was the  _ tiniest, tiniest _ crack. Had it always been there or had it been sealed, a larger gap filled? Or did years of hurt burst through now, his resolve to allow only  _ this _ to spill through?

It was impossible to hold back tears when she felt a trembling in her hand.  _ Hers or his? _ There was so much  _ strength _ his fingers, even in only two. Iris just looked at him, looked at him avoiding her eyes. As soon she could feel he was done speaking she crashed into him hard, harder than she meant, hitting the top of her head on his chin, Cor barely keeping balance, spilling coffee on the ground. She had her arms wrapped around him tightly, crying,  _ for him _ .

A little  _ fuck _ as she landed her unintended hit, and then he was laughing as she cried, not about her, but about the new pain on his head and the hot coffee on his legs and about himself and what this girl did to him, making him tell shit he usually kept to himself, and he hugged her and covered her hair in tiny kisses.

"Hush, hush, little lady, it's long gone. No need to shed tears for an old bastard, okay?"

"It's not right, Cor."

Iris lay cradled across his lap, her head pressed to his chest and her arms around his waist, hands crawling up his back. With all her might she squeezed, a crushing hug to remind him of his rib cage; heart and lungs, before she let go and sat upright. It was easier and liberating to cry freely around him now, in turn making it easier and comforting to stop.

 

He wheezed as she did, her arms pressing the wind out of him.  _ Strong little girl. _ "Such is life, Iris. More often not right than it is, whether we like it or not. Not a reason to give up on it though."

A nod before a sleeve dried her eyes, obscuring her smile. Iris returned to her seat, pancakes and tea all scattered and cold now. As she picked them up it felt like she was sticking her hand through an invisible cloud, a heavy air subtly sucking her hand into the surface, a fog settling in the cave that she only noticed now.

Cor seemed to notice something too. A shift in weight, a little tilt of the head, a twitch in his hand. Iris had learned to read the signs of him getting nervous, sensing incoming trouble. His eyes closed, and he listened into the darkness, barely breathing.

 

Maybe a small bird had flown inside while they were asleep? Iris scanned the cave, knowing it was pointless, they were the only ones here, nothing seemed out of place. But she trusted his instincts more than her own, trusted his ability to sense danger, sniff it out before it got too close. She looked around again, again avoiding looking at the entrance, the only possible place that made sense for something to come through, too scared to look.  _ There must be something there. _

 

Steps.

Steps on the stone outside that sounded like they were taken in  _ shoes  _ with actual  _ heels _ .

Steps coming to a halt, still outside, and a tense silence.

"You okay in there?" A woman's voice, and Cor's hand around the hilt of his sword.

She had to look at the entrance now, getting up to stand behind Cor, dagger in hand. They were in the middle of nowhere, darkness and daemons everywhere.  _ What was a woman doing here? _

"Saw your fire through the darkness from miles away. Rare to find a light out here. You're a hunter?"

Cor nodded towards the darkness deeper in the cave.  _ Hide. _

"What else should I be?"

 

Iris skipped on light and fast feet, the feeling of panic inside her, conscious of her breathing. There was nothing for her to cower behind, to truly hide from plain sight, but she leaned against a wall where the flames' light didn't reach, black clothes and hair concealing her, comforting her, waiting for the stranger to emerge, eyes on Cor's sword.

“Refugee. Lost and scared, but you don't sound like you tend to be. Scared, I mean. Can I come in?“

“Wait. I'm coming.“ His steps leaving to meet the enemy at the gates. Iris heard his baffled  _ the fuck _ .

_ Dammit _ . From where she was standing she couldn't make out what was happening, terrible at doing as she was told in situations like this she weighed her options.  _ Should I stay put? _ She needed to be able to see him at all times to feel safe, a chance to consider the outcomes. She stepped out, crouching, a better view to settle her fast beating heart. There he stood, his broad back covering the stranger, Iris still unable to see who they were up against.

His sword wasn't drawn. That was _ something _ .

As he stepped back, the woman came into the orange glow. Light flickering over a pretty, if a bit rugged face in its late twenties under a mess of dark hair, the lips in a permanent little pout that made her look like she just had freed herself from a long and sensual kiss. She wore dark leather, but then, most of those who were traveling outside. It was only at the second gaze that Iris noticed the blackened coat of arms on her jacket.  _ Kingsglaive. _

There was a look on Cor's face that only showed around people he cared for. Sometimes it had appeared when they've met a long lost acquaintance of his, old faces recognized anew, usually just a small smile, over before one could notice, but this time it lingered. Iris walked up to meet them, still a bit wary of the woman, attentive of where weapons and hands were. Awkwardness in her own hands, where to place them and what to do with them, she waited for a signal from Cor.

A slight nod into her direction.  _ Alright for now _ , and yet there was something in his stance telling her he found coast very much not clear.

“Cuppa, Crowe? To warm the heart?“

“Love to. Got a little extra for it? Gotta celebrate, don't we?“ She grinned. Cute little dimples on her cheeks.

Iris looked at Cor, then Crowe, trying to decipher their connection. She was aware Cor knew some of the glaives, but Crowe was unlike any she had seen. Turning her head again for another glance she was caught by Crowe, a disarming smile on her face meant for her, making her timid. Iris barely smiled, but nodded her head as she sat down first, at her seat by the fire, not caring to introduce herself; Cor could deal with that. Suddenly it became very important for her to focus on her things, that they weren't out of reach, wrongfully ending in Crowe's hands or missing in the fog that felt like it came with her.

 

"Hey there." The woman squatted down in front of her while Cor set up the kettle. "I'm Crowe. Old buddy of his." A nod over her shoulder. "You got a name? Or still trying to make one for yourself?"

She stopped gathering her stuff for a moment, sugar packs already stashed in her pockets, finally acknowledging Crowe with swift eyes.

"Iris." Nothing more to add.

 

She was being rude and she knew it, but she felt the arrival of Crowe was strange; a woman who ventured through the darkness on her own was a dangerous woman indeed. And why, so close after that horrid night? Not even a simple stranger, but a visitor from the past of the man who she nearly killed? It didn't help that she felt Crowe was staring at the bloodied blanket in her hands.

“Didn't know you had a kid, Cor, and such a pretty one. Coming after her mother, she is? Even though you sure got  _ his _ smile.“ Crowe winked at the girl, and Cor said...  _ nothing _ . Handed her a cup of tea with a good swig of whiskey. Poured some into his own coffee and drank.

 

"Iris  _ Amicitia _ ."

Silently and hoarse, emphasis on her father's name, of the name anyone who fought for the King would know. She looked at Cor, seeking an answer to his silence,  _ why did she have to answer for him? _

 

It wasn't that she was eager to speak but she had to set the record straight just because, but.. had  _ he  _ want to?  _ Or did he...? _ A heart sinking feeling in her chest. It wasn't that she couldn't.. imagine it, but she never had thought of  _ him _ like that, did he think of  _ her _ like that? With everything that had happened between them she was feeling lost, in complications, in unsaid things and things that perhaps could never be said. Missing her  _ real _ dad now that she had to evoke him, wondering if she had hurt Cor by it, all joy gone, an awkward feel. Iris remained silent, not bothering to hide her disgruntlement.

Crowe didn't flinch under the weight of the family. "That's some burden to bear, Iris. If Cor is willing to work with you, I'm quite sure you bring nothing but more honor and asskicking to that name."

She brushed back a strand of Iris' hair, lacking all of the restraint Cor showed over personal space.  _ Glaives. What could she expect _ .

"You don't like me very much, do you? Cause I'm a stranger, and he's  _ your  _ Cor, right?" A wide, open grin. Her left incisor was missing a tiny chip.

Iris looked into those big brown eyes, bright teeth and plush lips for a bit too long, slightly flustered. Now that Crowe was so close and had called her out Iris had to deny, backtrack.

"I don't know you, or what you're doing here, that's all."

Iris reached into her pocket. "Would you like some sugar?" A peace offering, something to distract away from her embarrassment

"Crowe Altius. Kingsglaive, still. Taking care of a little settlement about half a day on foot from here. We saw your fire, and I went to see if there was someone in need of help. Also, I got chocolate, if you wanna trade."

Cor watched the both of them. Something here was off, but it very well might just be the uneasy feeling of two women conspiring, or that of noticing that Iris counted indeed as one these days,

Iris was examining the friendly smile that still lit up Crowe's face. They've met people in the dark before, usually nice and helpful, but Iris couldn't recall the last time someone had snuck up on her and Cor like this,  _ they  _ usually were the ones to seek others. Despite this, the strange feeling that lingered, she decided to let her suspicions rest for now.  

"Chocolate?"

“Chocolate.“ From her backpack she took a plastic bag, printed with the logo of a supermarket of days gone by. “This is where I keep my special rations, you know? Those for the very mean days. Wanna take a look? I'd feel strange trying to seduce a gal with sweets. Don't even have the van to do it properly. Ugh!“ A friendly kick into the short ribs from Cor made her jump.

“Not here, Crowe, and not with her.“

“I'm fucking joking, mate! And you don't need to tell her if she's okay with something or not. An Amicitia can do that herself very well.“ A friendly elbow hit Iris' knee. The woman was still smiling, not having raised her voice.

“Not used to your jokes anymore, Crowe.“ Cor admitted. “It's been a while.“

The scene that unfolded was strange, and Iris was unsure of how to respond other than an awkward smile. She watched Cor go back to his seat, Crowe still in front of her, still within arm's reach. Iris nudged her arm. "Can I take a look?" A bag unlike her own was handed to her.

 

Inside the girl found a wild assortment of chocolate bars, gummi bears and other sugary treats in colorful wrapping. Crowe had to get around, judging by this mix.

“Ten, fifteen years, something like that?“ Her grin widened. “Kept up well, yes you did.“

“So did you. The darkness becomes you.“

“End of the world meant a lot of things, but it also meant I can just  _ take  _ all the skincare I couldn't afford otherwise.“

“Still always an eye for the positive things, I see.“

"How many are you at the settlement? ...Why did you travel alone to us? Should always be in teams, at least that's what my dad taught the Crownguard. Don't know Kingsglaive protocol.."

Curious, slightly suspicious again.

"23, ma'am." A mocking salute, still with a big grin. "Working in teams is great in theory, but we are only two and can't afford to leave the civilians without a guard. Bit short on manpower."

"Did Monica sent you there?"

"Bit of a... private thing, Cor. One we considered necessary, no matter what the boss says."

"So doing things the Glaive way again? Understood." There wasn't as much criticism in his voice as Iris would have expected.

Still it didn't ease her mind, very much like her dad, she preferred that people do things by the book, and that questions were answered clearly. It made her wary, the day as night made it easier for people to do harm for what they perceived as rightful. She wasn't sure where she could place Crowe.

"So.. what do you do there? Private thing.. Must be tough if you're only two capable of fighting the daemons."

Just Cor and her by themselves was challenging, even with his extraordinary abilities, how only two people could protect others was hard for her to fathom.

“Didn't choose the job because it was easy, love. But someone's gotta do it, you know how it is. Keep intact what can be kept, and the village... it's been there since quite a while. There have always been some who defended it, and it's one of the places that  _ need to be _ .“ Meaningfully raised brows into Cor's direction.

“So it's one of those  _ things I'll never get anyway _ again?“

“Yup. Just trust me on it this time.“

 

Iris watched Crowe's face move with every word, eyes and lips widening, a siren's voice drawing her in. Where Cor's words were refrained, Crowe's were mysterious still. At least when he finally spoke he was blunt. She decided to follow Cor's approach, if he didn't understand what Crowe was referring to, then she most likely didn't either, despite her knowledge of the surrounding area. She took to her tea, or what was left of it, again.

“He thinks I'm a witch, you know?“ Crowe was still smiling and drinking horrible black bean juice.

“And, are you?“ Leonis sat down beside her, a slight  _ affection  _ in his voice Iris had rarely heard from him. Maybe when joking with her dad, on a good day.

“Still prefer a motorcycle to a broom, even if I got barely time to ride. Nothing you like in there, Iris?“

"I'm good."

There might have been some things in Crowe's bag that she had her eye on, impressed and slightly jealous, a few items taken out to hold and examine more than once, but she shook her head.

"Cor is not cool enough to ride a motorcycle.. maybe not even a broom." A cheeky grin behind the cup of tea.

"He did though, when he was younger, right?" She nudged him with her elbow. "Was quite the little rascal in his days, before he became all  _ reasonable  _ and  _ stern _ ." Her face changed from wide grin to expressionless  stare, giving Iris a look of utter neutrality with a hint of disapproval.

Cor opened his mouth to protest and shut it before anything like  _ I'm still cool _ could come out. This was some shit he was not having.

Iris was amused. She watched the two adults continue bicker and reminisce with a smile until she suddenly was aware of a weird chill in the cave. The fire was still burning, their bags and weapons scattered in sight, everything was in their right place, as it had been the previous days. The only things that were different then, were Crowe and the fog, but she couldn't pinpoint  _ why _ .

"So, will you be coming to say Hello?" The question was very much addressed to  _ her _ , way more than it was to  _ him _ , and it sprung from a completely different topic.

Caught by surprise, Iris glanced nervously at Cor whose expression mirrored her own, a rare, unsettling occurrence. She looked to him to answer, to be the one in charge and take control, but as Crowe waited and Cor seemed to need time to contemplate her question, she felt uneasy. She said her words with an unsure smile.

"..Do you need our help at the settlement?" Somehow Iris knew she wouldn't like what answers there may be.

"We can always need help, and the two of you look like you can use a hot bath in the springs."

"We..." Cor hesitated.

"Oh, c'mon. We got some catching up to do, and we haven't had guests in so long."

Even if it happened that Iris could convince Cor to do something that he downright opposed, she didn't like his hesitation, his attempt at an excuse in this instance. It was odd. This was a friendly offer and new places and adventures were always fun for her, but she needed Cor to at least be sure of what laid ahead, as he was wont to, and that he clearly wasn't.  _ And the fog _ ..

"Guess we better pack up then." A wary smile. Iris looked into the fire before she looked over it, staring at Cor's unreadable face.

Bright blue eyes wandering over her dirty little face and finally, a nod. "Alright then. Let's get going."

 

Their way through the darkness and the fog felt weirdly  _ safe _ . Crowe chose their path, and her steps were so secure and without any doubt that nothing  _ dared to approach them _ . Iris wondered why this feeling was so deep in her guts, for it was a new one, and judging by Cor's behavior, he didn't share it at all, being as wary as he always was.

They were going up into the hills, away from the paved roads.

  
It was a path or place she had not known before, not from maps or from other hunts she and Cor had conducted nearby. The soil beneath her boots was both soft and hard, crumbling under each step, putting her off her balance, and despite her boots' thick leather, cold air was seeping through, a silent prickle in her feet. Iris walked behind Cor and Crowe, seeking small hidden treasures with her flashlight along the path of her own little world as always. She only did this for a short while this time, as the feeling of something unnerving was inherent to this place settled into her the higher up they got. Iris walked up besides Cor, falling in step as best as her shorter strides allowed her, quickening her pace and solely focusing on their upwards path in the dark and the dangers that she knew lurked within.

He looked at her now and then, maybe musing if she still considered this a good idea, but never asking, never doubting. After quite some time, his hand found hers and held on tight, just to make sure he would not lose his girl.

 


End file.
